


Snake-Botherer

by MiraMira



Category: Discworld - Pratchett, Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Crack, Crossover, Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headmaster Black isn't fond of students in general, but one of the new Slytherin first years in particular disturbs him.  The boy is too observant, doesn't even seem to own a wand...and what kind of a name for a pureblood is "Vetinari," anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snake-Botherer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a Hogwarts Elite contest.

From the moment the boy entered the Great Hall with the other first-years, Headmaster Black took a sudden and intense dislike to him. This was hardly unusual by itself: Phineas Nigellus disliked most children, including his own.1 Nor was there anything particularly unusual about the boy from a distance. He was tall for his age and thin, with angular features: all descriptions which could have applied to Phineas in his own youth.

What drew Phineas's attention were the boy's eyes, which pinned him with a focus like a basilisk's. For one wild moment, he feared he might be in the presence of a skilled Legilimens. But before he could prepare a counter-attack, the boy broke the gaze, nodded to himself as though satisfied, and moved on.

_Gryffindor_, Phineas thought with a sneer once he had recovered. Where else could such insolence be considered appropriate?

Even so, he paid a far higher degree of attention to the Sorting Ceremony than usual.

The boy's name was not called until near the end. He approached the stool without any sign of fear or excitement and picked up the hat. Its brim had scarcely grazed his head when it shouted in a voice twice as loud as normal, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Vetinari, was it?" Phineas murmured to Edmund Rosier, the head of Slytherin House, as the boy took his place beneath the green and silver hangings. "I'm not familiar with that family."

"Nor I," said Rosier, with a look of distaste that could not entirely have been attributed to the peas.2 "Perhaps they're Italian."

"Perhaps." The question did not seem to have occurred to the younger Slytherins, or at least not to trouble them. In fact, sixth-year prefect Octavian Flint and two of his closest compatriots were already engaged in animated, if slightly one-sided chatter with Vetinari. Phineas leaned back in his chair. "Nonetheless, keep an eye on him, won't you?"

-

Over the course of the first week of term, Phineas developed an unshakeable conviction that he was being watched. He felt it most strongly on those occasions when he was obliged to visit the commonly used parts of the school, but other than that, it did not seem to matter whether he was by himself or with others, or whether the hour was late or early. The hairs on the back of his neck would suddenly prickle, and he would turn, only to find nothing there.

Neither magical nor mundane methods of investigation revealed any trace of the spy, but Phineas was not mollified. Foe-Glasses were soon installed in every corner of his office and chambers. He made inquiries to Gringotts and Azkaban, both of which replied with regrets they could not spare their guard creatures, but were happy to advise him on the subject of wards. The only precaution he did not take was purchasing Sneakoscopes, as they might cloud the issue by responding to multiple potential threats. Phineas was quite certain there was only one worth considering.

At the next staff meeting, the Headmaster startled even Rosier by breaking with his custom of allowing the faculty to deal with all student matters to inquire how young Vetinari was faring.

"Well," the Transfiguration professor offered, "I understand he's defeated all his challengers at chess."

"Gobstones, too," that club's sponsor added, unable to disguise her admiration.

Phineas waved off these observations with equally undisguised irritation. "Yes, yes, but how does he get on in class?"

"The boy's fine," Professor Binns jumped in, with uncharacteristic force. "In fact, I've never had such an attentive student as Mr. Ventricle.3"

A long moment of silence followed while the other professors recovered from their astonishment. But while taking any sort of interest in Binns's teaching was unprecedented, to say the least, even Phineas could not argue that it qualified as suspicious. Reluctantly, he prepared to move on to other subjects, when Primrose Endicott, the sweet-faced young Charms professor, piped up. "As a matter of fact, now that you mention it…"

And once _she_ mentioned it, the other professors realized that they, too, had noticed the same thing. Although his papers demonstrated a promising - even penetrating - grasp of magical theory for a novice, Vetinari had not once cast an actual spell. Indeed, no one could remember having seen his wand at all, let alone having watched him use it.

"But he couldn't _be_ here if there weren't anything magical about him," protested Professor Endicott, quite flustered by the stir she had caused.

"Then he should have no difficulty proving it," Phineas retorted.

When informed that he would be required to give a demonstration of his magical abilities, Vetinari sighed. "Very well," he said. "I shall require four cc's of mouse blood and some small bits of wood."

Unfortunately, Phineas was called away at the last moment on some onerous task for his wife, and was never able to obtain a full explanation of what happened next. This was not for lack of trying, but anyone who witnessed the event began gibbering with terror about skeletons and blue flame and farming implements when questioned, and had to be sent to the infirmary for a course of dried frog pills.4 Some debate ensued over whether black magic might have been involved, but even Rosier, a noted expert in the subject, was unfamiliar with any Dark spells involving mouse blood. The important point was that the challenge had been met. Vetinari was therefore eligible to remain at Hogwarts on grounds of magical ability, though the faculty as a whole agreed that his reluctance to use said ability should be respected – nay, _encouraged_.

Phineas decided to invest in Sneakoscopes after all.

-

Some time later, Phineas awoke at his desk with a start. In spite of the staff's murmurs, he had taken to sleeping there, believing the hidden staircase afforded him more protection than his other rooms at Hogwarts. Grimmauld Place was out of the question: Phineas would not have put it past Ursula to invite a murderer in and escort him to the master bedroom herself, cheerfully prattling about how much she detested her husband's snoring all the while.

At first, he thought he might have been awakened by another bad dream, but the neck-prickles were stronger than ever. He scanned the room. The shadows in the left-hand corner nearest the door were somehow darker than they ought to be. Phineas raised his wand and charged.

Vetinari stepped forward to meet him. He had exchanged his Hogwarts robes for a dark green outfit and held a knife in one hand.

For all that he had been preparing for just such an act of malice, Phineas was so startled by this sudden appearance that he came to an abrupt halt. This temporary paralysis was broken when the knife flashed an inch from his eyes. Phineas threw up a shield spell and retreated behind his desk.

Instead of following, Vetinari receded back into the shadows. He was gone for so long that Phineas began to believe he had dreamed the whole exchange, when the prickles returned. He whirled behind him.

Apparition from within Hogwarts should have been impossible for anyone, let alone an eleven year-old boy who still showed no sign of possessing a wand, but Phineas could think of no other explanation for how Vetinari had come to be standing there. Nor did he have time to ponder the matter. He overturned the desk and ran back to the door. This time, Vetinari followed in the normal fashion.

"How did you get in?" Phineas demanded between feints. "The password-"

"A simple enough matter to decipher," Vetinari informed him calmly, dodging to the right.

Phineas took aim. "I placed half a hundred charms on the door!5"

"And yet not one of them capable of deflecting a simple lockpick." Suddenly, Phineas found his wand halfway across the room, and Vetinari far too close. The door handle jabbed Phineas in the back, even as the prick of the knife point caused him to draw in his stomach. "I suggest you do not struggle, Headmaster. I have no desire to make this any more painful than necessary."

Wandless magic had never been Phineas's forte. He could only hope that the rumors of its effectiveness when one's life was in danger were true. Closing his eyes, he concentrated…

…And the wand flew into his hand at the same instant that Vetinari's knife vanished.

For the very briefest of seconds, Phineas saw Vetinari's eyes widen, like those of any normal eleven year-old caught flat-footed by an elder. Somehow, he found this more satisfying than even the preservation of his own life.

Alas, he had no time to gloat. Even as the boy lowered his head in apparent acquiescence, his every movement indicated the restoration of perfect control. "You have the advantage of me, sir. However, if I may take the liberty of saying so, it was most unwise of you to destroy my weapon."

Despite his curiosity at what Vetinari might be planning, Phineas saw no reason to waste further time on conversation. "_Petri_-"

"Bind me if you wish," Vetinari interrupted, "but I believe you will find it difficult to persuade the faculty that a wandless first-year succeeded in foiling your security measures and posing any sort of threat to you. Rosier in particular already seems most anxious regarding the state of your mental health as it pertains to the fulfillment of your responsibilities as Headmaster.6"

"There are ways," Phineas insisted, even as he felt his wand arm begin to slacken. "Veritaserum, the lockpick, the desk…"

In answer, Vetinari regarded him silently, his expression a portrait of bewildered innocence. If not for a knowing glimmer in the depths of the eyes, Phineas would not have been able to resist the compulsion to apologize. Rosier and any other enemies, he suspected, would not trouble themselves to look so closely.

He lowered the wand to his side. "You have an alternative proposal, I take it?"

Vetinari nodded. "But first, I ask your assurance that you will not force me to divulge the identity of my employer. My contract forbids it."

Phineas hesitated, torn between indignation and suspicion over whether the boy had truly exhausted his supply of tricks. But if he had gained anything from this struggle, it was the reassurance that his ability to read people was as sound as ever. And Phineas's instincts were telling him now that Vetinari wanted to avoid further conflict if at all possible. Why, Phineas was uncertain, but he was not about to complain. "Very well. Let us negotiate."

-

"What d'you mean, you're 'finished here'?" Octavian Flint snarled in a whisper. "If dear old Uncle Phineas was dead, I think we'd have heard.7 Wouldn't we, lads?"

Mycroft Smith nodded assent, a gleam of anticipation enlivening his otherwise dull gaze. Gavin Goyle cracked his knuckles.

Vetinari did not so much as flinch. "I did not say that I had been able to fulfill the contract to your satisfaction. Merely that I have carried out the attempt, and our arrangement is therefore at an end."

"Oh, yeah?" Flint took a step forward. Smith and Goyle followed him. "Maybe you just need to try harder." Another set of steps. "Seems to me that unless we send you back, you'll have plenty of time for that."

Vetinari bowed his head. "Undoubtedly. However, while assassins have been known to vanish from the Guild without remark, I assure you my aunt would be most distressed should such a fate befall me for much longer."

Goyle sniggered.

"Moreover," Vetinari continued as though he had not been interrupted. He did, however, look up, causing Goyle to choke back the last of his laughter. "The terms of my agreement with Headmaster Black require me to return home immediately. If I cannot do so on my own, I shall be forced to request his assistance. And while the terms of _our_ agreement prevent me from revealing your identities, the borrowing history for Speculations on the Feasibility of Multi-Dimensional Summoning8 is a matter of public record."

The Slytherins' no-longer grinning faces took on a jaundiced cast. "Told you it'd be safer to just cast the bloody spell in the library," Smith spat at Flint.

"And _I_ told you we should've just researched poisons," Flint snapped back.

"Uhm." Goyle, still the target of Vetinari's stare, had backed away completely by this point. Once Flint and Smith had halted their quarrel long enough to investigate what had made his voice so high-pitched, they immediately did the same. "I think we'd better do what he says. Now."

Flint and Smith both agreed it was the wisest observation Goyle had ever made.9

-

Back in his own dormitory at the Assassins' Guild of Ankh-Morpork, Havelock Vetinari lay back in bed and reflected on his strange adventures. He was glad to be home, with the familiar Disc beneath his feet again in place of a bizarre round ball of a world. Nonetheless, a strange discontent gnawed at him. He did not think it was the loss of whatever magical talent he might have possessed at Hogwarts10. Nor was it the separation from his classmates, who had not struck him as terribly different from his fellow assassins-in-training: none of whom he felt particularly close to, either.

As Vetinari pondered, he realized that the feeling was somehow tied up with Phineas Nigellus. Over the weeks in which he had followed the man and studied his habits, he had developed a certain degree of respect – even admiration – for the Headmaster, one which had perhaps made him somewhat lax in his efforts to inhume the man. Unlike the students and faculty of the Guild, who saw daggers in every shadow and were never more courteous than around those they most feared, Black knew the difference between a nuisance and a true threat, and did not hesitate to say so. But while his perceptiveness protected him from any unpleasant surprises, his open misanthropy ensured he would have to face any general unpleasantness alone. There had to be a more effective balance.

Yes, the future Patrician of Ankh-Morpork mused, there was much still to learn from Headmaster Black.

-

**Footnotes:**

1The feeling was mutual. In fact, historians believe that the Black family name would have died out with the next generation had Phineas not made its continued propagation a condition in his will.

2Even if they were rather mushy.

3Binns's inability to remember names was every bit as pronounced in life as in death.

4For Professor Endicott, these turned out to be a temporary solution rather than a cure, as she spent the rest of her life taking them to fend off hysterics and severe paranoia. Her last words were reportedly, "All right, I give up. Come and get me, you grinning bastard!"

5Unfortunately for Phineas, none of these were the charm which sealed the room against all but the rightful Headmaster, as it had not yet been invented. Dumbledore would later develop this spell, with Phineas's considerable input.

6Rosier did write a letter to the Board of Governors around this time expressing his concerns. However, the Board was well aware of Rosier's dissatisfaction at merely being Deputy Headmaster, and saw no reason to pay attention to any of his complaints.

7In fact, when Phineas Nigellus did pass away of natural causes some decades later, it took a full week to confirm that he had died. Several individuals – Octavian among them – suspected something was wrong within the first twenty-four hours of his absence, but chose not to investigate because they were enjoying the peace and quiet too much.

8Eisenstadt, Erwin. Durmstrang: Durmstrang Press, 1873.

9Or any Goyle, for that matter.

10Vetinari's assumption that he had lost all magical ability or never possessed any in the first place may not have been accurate. Later Discworld magicians foolhardy enough to cast spells on him11 discovered him curiously resistant to their efforts, particularly any form of summoning. However, they attributed this to the fact that he _was_, after all, Vetinari.

11There were not many of these.


End file.
